


Across the Hedges

by FishofaFeather



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prank Wars, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Slytherin Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishofaFeather/pseuds/FishofaFeather
Summary: The first time someone called Hermione a mudblood it was only her confusion that stopped her from correcting them.Later, once she learned what it meant was her pride that held her back. As if admitting, “My mother is a hedgewitch.” Somehow made those purebloods who looked down at her right. Like her bright, fearless mum wasn’t a better person than all of them combined.AU: Helen Granger is a hedgewitch
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 70
Kudos: 147





	1. The Letter

Chapter One: The Letter

Hermione Granger had always known she was a witch. She had been casting with her mother for longer than she could remember; probably for as long as she’d been alive actually. Helen Granger wasn’t the type to let the fact that her daughter was an infant hold her back from participating in rituals. 

Magic had always been a part of Hermione’s life, long before Hogwarts ever entered the picture. Helen taught her daughter how to create strong crystal grids and how to cast runic stones with clear intentions. She taught her to burn sage for cleansing and to hang mistletoe for protection. Peppermint for healing or cedar for courage. She taught Hermione how to mix tinctures and passed down her grandmother’s best salve recipes. Hermione could read tarot cards and tea leaves; though her ever practical daughter often scoffed at the convoluted nature of their predictions. 

But most of all she taught her daughter respect. She taught Hermione to respect the earth, to respect the gods and to respect herself. To respect the delicate balance of the world and take responsibility for maintaining that balance to the best of her abilities. 

“Make pay attention in science class Hermione.” Helen explained, “If you look close enough you can see the magic at work around us. Everything in this world has a purpose, guided by Mother Earth and maintained in a delicate but chaotic balance.” 

“Take the clovers we plant on Ostara for example.” Helen twisted Hermione’s hair into small braids that tucked behind her ears. “The clovers take energy from the soil to help them grow. They provide food for rabbits which we eat and when we die our bodies will be returned to the soil. We will return that energy we borrowed from the rabbits, who borrowed it from the plants to the soil; where the clovers can use it to once again grow to feed the future rabbits and people.” 

“But mum, what does that have to do with magic?” Hermione asked. 

“Well my dear, your teachers will tell you that all energy originates from the sun but there are many different forms of energy. Have you started to learn about atoms yet?” Little Hermione shook her head. “No? Well, plants for example are able to convert sunlight directly into energy but animals like humans and rabbits convert something called glucose into energy. Magic allows you to attract and manipulate these energies.” 

“That’s why the Ostara clovers grow so well. Our magic and our blood attracts the energy they need. It allows them to convert sunlight to energy more easily.” 

Hermione could recognize the feeling of magic in the air. A heady presence like dew in the morning, or the moments before the first clap of a thunderstorm. It always hung heavy in the air before their solstice ceremonies Every year they gave back to Mother Earth for her blessings with blood and bounties. 

“Magic is about intent, Hermione, it doesn’t always work the way you expect it to.” Her mother had explained one Ostara back before Hermione had started middle school. Together they planted clover seeds together along the edge of their ritual circle for the spring equinox. “Focus on yourself and feel your connection to Mother Earth through your fingertips.”

Hermione closed her eyes and did as she was told, grasping for that little spark inside of herself she always knew was there.

“Good, now connect it to your intentions. Not your emotions. What you want to feel like, rather than how you feel.” 

Summoning up her feelings of happiness and her love for her parents was easy but connecting the two was trickier. It took her a few tries but eventually, she wrapped her intentions around her spark and pushed until the two merged. She relished in the familiar way it made her fingertips tingle and her heartbeat oddly in her chest. 

“Now give it back to the Earth, to the clovers, let them grow big and strong.” 

Hermione opened her eyes and watched her mother prick her finger and press down against it. A small drop of blood welled up against her fingertip. Helen let the blood gather for a moment longer before guiding it to drip in the small bowl of water she was kneeling in front of. 

She passed the bowl back to Hermione, “For the clovers, my dear.” 

Hermione nodded, moving gently to pour the water over the freshly planted clovers, “Why the blood mama?” 

“Because this is our home, it is our job to protect it and take care of it, and it will do the same for us. We are giving thanks for the food and the shelter this land provides and giving our blood and magic to foster new growth and prosperity. We are part of the magic that runs through this land and this will strengthen our connection to it.” 

Finally, Helen lit a single red candle and placed it in the center of their ritual circle. She bowed low, touching her forehead to the earth. Beside her, Hermione faltered for a moment unsure if this was the year she should follow her mother in prayer. 

But then Helen rose and grasped Hermione’s hand in hers, “One day when you are older. You will pick a god. They will guide your steps and deliver you to your destiny. In return, you will be their champion here on earth and spread their message any way that you can.” 

Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling very small in the face of the future. 

Hermione’s clovers were the first thing to bloom that year. Seeing them made the bead of tension she didn’t know she had unravelled. It chased away her insecurities, her insecurities of not being good enough; of not having magic. Her clovers weren’t quite as thick or as bright as her mum’s but still, Hermione felt pride bubble in her chest every time she looked at that lush circlet littered with pink blooms in the center of the backyard. Pride and something else. Something warm, that resonated deep within her whenever she was nearby. Something that she could only describe as magic. 

Hermione loved her Mum and she loved magic just as much, but she was fully capable of admitting that they didn’t make a lot of sense. When she wanted things to make sense, she went to her Dad for answers. 

“Dad, is science magic?” Hermione asked. She had just started learning about atoms in chemistry class and she found it all terribly fascinating. 

Her father chuckled, “You know a lot of people say magic is just things that can’t be explained yet.” 

Hermione’s brows furrowed, “Is it?”

“Does understanding how it works to make it less magical?” Richard pushed his reading glasses farther upon his brow, “Does understanding that the earth travels around the sun make the sunrise any less beautiful?” 

Hermione thought about the last Yule when her and her parents had taken hot cocoa out to the ritual circle to watch the sunrise over the neighbourhood. “No, no it doesn’t”. 

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other you know.” Richard patted his daughter’s bushy hair, “They already exist together, you know that they do. You just can’t explain how yet.” 

Helen had been waiting for the day Hermione learned about the Witch Trials. She came home from school in tears the day and barely made it past the front door before spilling her school books all across the floor. 

“How could they do something...something so horrible!” She sniffled, snot running down her face. 

“Oh, darling.” Helen gathered little Hermione into a hug and pulled her into her lap the way she used to do when Hermione was half the size. “I’m so sorry.” Helen rocked her slowly. “The world can be a cold and cruel place.” 

Hermione whimpered gently in her arms, “But why? All those women.….All those witches.” 

“The truth, Hermione, is that none of those women were ever proven to be a witch. Some of them might have been, but the truth, my dear, is that it didn’t matter.” Hermione’s wide, horrified eyes looked up at her and Helen wanted to stop. She wanted to protect her daughter for a little longer. But she couldn’t. The truth was necessary to prepare her for the things she couldn’t be protected from. 

“They went after strong women Hermione. Women who were knowledgeable and proud. Women who were different.” Helen took a deep breath and rocked Hermione gently, “It wasn’t about magic. Not really. It was about furthering their own political and religious agendas.” 

“....I don’t understand.” 

“It’s alright, you will one day. But you have to be careful, my love, because you are different and people will try to hold you back because of it.” Helen blinked back tears of her own, “But don’t you dare let them. Just because they don’t understand, it doesn’t make them right. It just makes them pigheaded.” 

Hermione thought about the boys from school. The ones who stole her books and made fun of her teeth.

“Knowledge is power Hermione and you owe it to yourself to be as strong as you possibly can. You will always have enemies, people who think you aren’t good enough, strong enough or smart enough.” Helen took a deep, shaky breath, “But you are my daughter and you are a witch. Nothing they can do or say will ever change that.” 

Hermione remembered the rage when the boys dropped her Flora and Fauna textbook in a puddle by the playground. As well as, the helplessness when they finally got bored of teasing her and left. Nothing she could say or do stopped them, they simply got bored of trying to hurt her. 

“You can’t stop from trying to tear you down but you sure as heck don’t have to make it easy for them either.” 

Hermione got her love of books from her father. Together they shared a large wooden bookshelf that stood in their living room. Where the lower shelves were reserved for whatever had stuck Hermione’s fancy that week. Whether that was greek mythology, intermediate chemistry or Celtic runes. The higher shelves contained Richard’s old medical textbooks, advanced biology, chemistry and dentistry. Plus an assortment of mystery novels that Richard would shamelessly deny were his. 

However, it was the middle shelf that was arguably the most important for it only contained two things. The first was a framed picture of the three of them on Hermione’s first birthday. Her sitting on Helen’s lap with her little cheeks puffed out as she tried to blow out the candles and Richard standing behind both of them smiling at the camera. 

The only other item on the shelf was Richard’s crystal grid. It was his only crystal grid. Richard had never really considered himself a believer in magic. Of course, he always supported his wife. He helped her dry her herbs and prepare for the solstices. He would sit quietly with her while she prayed, sometimes thinking up his own prayers but he never considered himself a believer. 

That is until they gave up trying for a child. It had been a long day and an even longer conversation with his wife. At the end of it all, in a last-ditch attempt, with his last shred of hope, Richard had gathered the crystals his wife had given him over the years. The ones he kept in the bag in his nightstand and couldn’t even name. Plus a few pebbles from the garden for good measure. He gathered them all and arranged them in a simple pattern on the shelf. He didn’t know the words that Helen usually said or if he was even doing this properly but he bowed his head and prayed to whoever was listening. 

So naturally, when Professor McGonagall knocked on their door to invite Hermione to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry her parents were ecstatic but, really, they were not surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another quarantine fic for everyone! I'm kinda making this up as I go along so please let me know if there's anything you want to be included
> 
> That being said would you guys prefer a Dramione fic? Or a Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger fic?
> 
> Let me know in the comments!


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to Diagon Alley to collect her school supplies.

Chapter Two: Diagon Alley 

Hermione was entirely bewitched by the stern-looking Professor in long robes that was seated on her mother’s couch.

They had all gathered in the living room while her father prepared tea for the adults and a hot chocolate for Hermione. McGonagall didn’t come right out and say Hogwarts was a school for witches. No, she had presented Hogwarts as an elite boarding school in Scotland who had taken interest in Hermione and wanted to offer her a scholarship. It wasn’t until her parents asked how they had found her that Professor McGonagall was forced to explain. 

“You see,” Started the professor, gently placing her teacup back in the saucer on the coffee table, “Hogwarts is a highly specialized institution, one of the foremost leaders in magical education. Arguably the best in the world.” 

“Magic?” Her father asked.

“Yes, now I understand that this may be hard to believe.” Professor McGonagall continued barely pausing at her father’s question. She pulled out a long wand from her sleeve and gave it a quick wave before any of them could register what was happening. 

Before their eyes, the plain white teacup on the table changed; transforming into a small white bird. The bird chirped and fluttered its wings, quickly spotting the tray of biscuits in the center of the table. 

Professor McGonagall waved her wand again and the bird was gone. The white teacup was blaringly ordinary in its place. 

Helen and Richard exchanged a wide-eyed look. 

“You may remember moments where strange things have happened. Things you can’t fully explain, especially during times of anger and stress for Hermione.” Professor McGonagall explained, “This is called accidental magic and it is common with young children. However, as she grows so does her magical core. It is crucial that she learns to control her abilities before someone gets hurt. Hogwarts really is the best place for her.” 

Hermione blinked in confusion. She could remember using her magic to help the garden grow, to help her find books in the library and to help avoid the boys who teased her. That had definitely been magic but it had never been accidental. 

She turned back to her parents, “Can I go to Hogwarts, Mum? I want to learn magic like that.” 

“Of course my dear.” 

Professor McGonagall smiled, “Excellent! Hogwarts is a wonderful place, one I hope you will consider like home.” 

“What’s Hogwarts like?” Hermione asked, she was itching to ask a hundred more questions but her manners held her back. 

Professor McGonagall passed her a letter with Hermione Granger, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry written in looped cursive on the front. 

“Here is your school letter with your instructions for September and your list of school supplies. You will need to collect your supplies from a wizarding street called Diagon Alley.” Professor McGonagall said. “I will put you in touch with a colleague to help guide you through the process and recommend a few additional books to help answer some of your questions.” Her eyes twinkled, “Are you amenable to receiving owls?”

“Owls?” Richard said startled.

Helen put a reassuring hand on his knee, “Yes owls are fine.”

“Splendid! We will be in touch then.” 

After the door was closed and McGonagall was firmly on her way, Helen turned back to her husband and her daughter.

“Well, that was a lovely speech.” Richard started, sipping at his tea. “It would be very reassuring if that was our first time dealing with a little witchcraft.”

Hermione just giggled as her Dad wiggled his eyebrows at her. 

Helen’s brows furrowed, “Do you think she noticed the holly and mistletoe on the doorstep?” 

“Did you ever go to Hogwarts Mum?” Hermione asked, 

“No darling, my mother taught me magic.” Helen replied, “I can’t say I’ve ever seen magic quite like that before. You must be quite special, my dear, to earn a scholarship like that.” 

Hermione frowned, “Do you think a wand would work with our rituals?” 

Helen smiled at her daughter, “I don’t see why it wouldn’t.” 

“What about accidental magic? Did I ever do anything like that?” 

Helen and Richard glanced at each other again. He shrugged, “When you were really little you used to turn the lights on to read after bedtime.” 

“I made a hex bag for you once. To help keep you calm and centred but you haven’t needed that since you learned to use your magic.” Helen added. 

Hermione just hummed thoughtfully, “I wonder how many students grow up not knowing they have magic.” 

Despite Helen’s confidence, they in fact did not know how to use the owl post.

The small tawny owl had arrived in a fury of fluttering wings and indignant hoots two days after Professor McGonagall’s visit. At the sight of the owl in his kitchen, Richard folded his morning newspaper and placed it back down on the table. Hermione paused with her spoonful of cereal halfway to her lips. While Helen stood by the fridge, hand on her hip 

“So, how exactly are we supposed to do this?” Richard pushed his spectacles back up on the bridge of his nose? 

“Are those letters tied to its leg?” Helen asked. 

“Do you think it likes Cheerios?” Hermione chirped, “I read that owls normally eat mice but we don’t have any of those.” 

When they finally gained the courage to remove the letter tied to its leg, the owl was perfectly patient. It graciously accepted the offered cheerios from Hermione while Helen scribbled a brief confirmation to Mr. Weasley that they could meet next weekend to go to Diagon Alley. 

Mr. Weasley met the Granger family at a pub called the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday afternoon. It was rather difficult to find despite being off the main strip but eventually, Helen spotted the grubby little pub in between an old bookstore and a small tourist shop. 

Mr. Weasley was a tall fellow, with bright red hair and dressed in a brown pullover with slacks. In hindsight, he looked a lot more ordinary compared to Professor McGonagall, who had shown up at their door in full robes. He was also very enthusiastic about everything non-magical. Upon the first meeting, he quizzed Hermione’s parents relentlessly about what their dentistry practice was like and about how electricity worked.

“I’ve got a few sons of my own at Hogwarts. All Gryffindors of course.” Mr. Weasley eventually said to Hermione as he led them to the back of the pub, “Ron, is the same age as you Hermione, and Percy just became a prefect this year! His mother and I are so proud. Then there are the twins, they are rather hard to miss.” 

“Wait what’s a Griffindor?” Hermione interrupted.

“Oh! Well, Hogwarts sorts its students into four separate houses, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Gryffindor is well known for being the house of the brave, even Albus Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor.”

“Sorted? How do they sort all the students?” Hermione exclaimed, not wanting to admit she didn’t know who Albus Dumbledore was. 

Mr. Weasley laughed and tapped his finger to his nose, “It’s a Hogwarts secret of course! You will have to wait and find out like the rest of the first years!” And with that, Mr. Weasley turned and tapped his wand against the brick wall of the alleyway. 

Suddenly, the brick of the alleyway started to peel back. Forming a small hole at first but then it wriggled and grew until large leading out to a cobbled street appeared. A cobbled street that Hermione knew shouldn’t have existed. 

“Welcome to Diagon Alley!” Mr. Wealey said with a flourish. 

“This is amazing!” Hermione exclaimed, trying to take it all in as quickly as she could.

People in long colourful robes mingled up and down the street. There were shops selling cauldrons and telescopes and scales. A cluster of young boys gathers around a storefront that appeared to be selling….brooms? Owls hooted merrily and flew low overhead, despite it being daylight and out of the natural ranges for many of the species Hermione spotted. There was even a store advertising bat spleens and eel’s eyes. Another that specialized entirely in magical hats and luggage. 

“Ok! Our first stop is Gringotts. It’s a wizarding bank run by the goblins.” Mr. Weasley clapped his hands together, “Once you get through them the rest of the trip should be a breeze!”

“Goblins?” 

“Ya, greedy buggers they are but you’ll never find a safer place for your money.” Mr. Weasley explained, “They will be able to convert your muggle currency to wizarding. Unfortunately, their conversion rates are a little outlandish but there’s not much we can do about that. Once you are of age, Hermione, you can open your own account if you want.” 

Mr. Weasley directed them to a large white building with great stone steps and the most peculiar poem engraved on the doors. Hermione paused reading the poem over again. At first it was clearly threatening and a warning to intruders. But as Hermione stood there, dissecting it over in her mind, she felt more tempted than threatened. As if the treasure might be worth the risk. She realized then that there was no direct threat. This poem was a challenge; and a confident one at that for the goblins to put in on the entranceway. 

The goblins were smaller than Hermione expected. Standing only a bit taller than a toddler, they had long pointed fingers, large noses and dark eyes. She tried not to stare as they walked past but it was hard when she itched with curiosity. 

“So not from Lord of the Rings then,” Richard whispered as they examined the inside of the bank. 

A pair of goblins in full armour motioned them through the entrance doors and into a larger hall lined with bank tellers. Hundreds of goblins, each sat at their own counter with a large feather quill and a secondary desk behind them. People were queued along the center, waiting until one of the goblins called them forward. 

Mr. Weasley was towards his own teller. “When it’s your turn, just tell him you are looking to convert some muggle currency.”

When another goblin was finally beckoning them forward. Hermione made her way to the counter with more confidence than she felt and her parents followed closely behind. 

“Good morning, we are looking to convert some muggle currency to wizarding.” Her Dad said, placing a stack of bills on the counter. 

At that, the goblin looked up from his paperwork. He glanced at Richard briefly and looked at Hermione even less so. But then he saw Helen and paused. His gaze flicked back over to Hermione. 

“Do you wish to open an account?” He asked.

“Oh! We were told Hermione would have to be of-age for that.” Helen exclaimed.

The goblin shook his head, “A youngling can open an account in the presence of a magical guardian.” 

“Splendid! Why don’t we do that then.” 

“Prick your finger here girl,” Griphook ordered, pointing to a thin needle on the desk that Hermione had initially mistaken for a letter opener. 

Hermione did as she was told, barely wincing at the sharp pain. Blood welled in the cut. 

The goblin shoved a slip of parchment towards her, “Here, at the bottom.” 

Hermione wiped her bloodied fingertip across the bottom of the page and watched as instead of staining it the blood was absorbed into it. In its place, bright red writing started to take its place. Hermione Jean Granger, appeared in soft, looped cursive. Followed by September 22, birthday 1979 and a long series of symbols Hermione assumed was her account number. 

“For an additional fee, we can connect this account to a muggle counterpart.” Griphook said, turning back to his paperwork, “This will offer a reduced conversion between those two accounts.” 

“That would be great, thank you very much.” 

“Griphook will be your account manager. He will be in touch to deliver your keys, connect the accounts and discuss any investments you wish to make.” The goblin stacked his paperwork together and pushed it to the side. “Here is the currency you requested.” 

“Was that converted using the discounted rate?” Hermione piped up.

The goblin grinned at her with a fierce, predatory sort of smile. He snapped his fingers and the pile of gold coins grew slightly. “Of course.” 

“Thank you for all your help today.” Helen smiled.

“May your gold always be plentiful.” The goblin replied without looking back up. 

Mr. Weasley was waiting for them when they stepped back outside.

“How did that go?’ He asked.

“Splendidly!” Replied Helen, “They had no issues with Hermione opening her own account.”

“Really?” Mr. Weasley said in confusion, “They normally refuse to open accounts for students without a magical guardian present.”

Helen paused for a minute, uncertain if she should feel insulted or not. Mr. Weasley carried on, not noticing Helen’s stare or the confused glance Hermione gave her Dad.

“You can get your wand from Ollivanders here and your robes from Madame Malkins down the street.” Mr. Weasley said, ”Getting your first wand can be quite a personal thing, so why don’t I meet down at Flourish and Blotts afterward? I was just going to pop over and get an owl for Percy. A present for making prefect, you know.” 

Madame Malkins was a small shop run by a short woman with a bright sense of fashion. She was dressed entirely periwinkle and smiled brightly when Hermione came in. She led Hermione back into the fitting area and had her stand on a stool in front of a mirror while second, younger witch approached to start taking her measurements. 

By the time the entire process was done Hermione was itching to move on. The clothes were boring! She wanted to see more magic! When she stomped back over to her parents her father just raised an eyebrow and said, 

“Why don’t you go ahead, Hermione?” Her Dad said.

“You don’t want to see me get my wand?” Hermione asked looking up at him. 

“Well Arthur did say it was a rather personal experience, so why don’t you take these galleons and go ahead? You can tell us all about it afterwards kiddo.” 

“Alright! If you are sure Dad!” Hermione said, placing the coins carefully into her pockets.

Richard ruffled her hair, “Be safe!” 

Hermione’s first impression of Ollivanders was that it was a mess. There were thousands upon thousands of narrow boxes stacked from the floor to the ceiling. Organized just enough to make the semblance of isles. Not to mention the layer of dust that coated nearly everything. 

“Here for your wand?” An old man whom she assumed was Mr. Ollivander asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Hermione answered.

“What’s your name?” 

“Hermione Granger, sir.” 

“Hmmm, I don’t recognize that name, Granger.” Mr. Ollivander hummed, “Are you the first in your family to attend Hogwarts?” 

“Yes, sir I am.” 

“Welcome, Ms. Granger, now let's see if we can find you a wand.” Mr. Ollivander beckoned her closer, “Right or left?”

“Right.” 

Mr. Ollivander proceeded to measure the length of her arm with a tape measure, before disappearing into the mountain of shelves behind him. When he returned, he passed her a thick dark wand. The wood was so dark it was almost black.

“Go on.” He said, “Give it a flick.”

So she did and immediately shattered the inkpot on the counter. Globs of ink dripped down onto the floor. It stained the shelves and the stack of papers beside it.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Hermione cried. 

Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand back from her and Hermione felt like crying. How could she be so careless as to destroy his stuff like that? 

“How about this one.” Mr. Ollivander seemed like he barely even noticed the mess that was his shop now. 

He passed her a much thinner wand this time with light-coloured wood and an intricate handle. 

Using a wand made magic so much easier. Without even flicking her wrist she could feel her spark reaching down her arm. Ready to be used. It set her nerves aflame and made her desperate for her ritual circle back home. She wanted to run her fingers through the long grass and feed all this magic back to where it belonged. 

This time she held back. Trying to guide the magic slowly through the wand so it wouldn’t explode anything.

“Don’t do that!” Ollivander snapped. “I need to see the magic flow through you!” 

Hermione grinned sheepishly and gave the wand another flick. It rattled at the drawers of wands and sent a stack of paper in a flurry about the shop but thankfully everything remained in one piece. 

“No not that one.” Ollivander snatched the wand back from her hand and disappeared among the shelves again. “Here try this one.” 

Mr. Ollivander passed her a long thin wand with ornamental vines wrapped around the base and tapering up to the tip. 

She gave it a swish and the whole store lit up. The drawers tucked themselves snuggly back into place, the papers restacked themselves, the inkwell she exploded even knit itself back together, ink and all. 

“Vine, 10¾" long with a dragon heartstring. A powerful combination. ” Mr. Ollivander said as he examined the wand in her hand. “You are passionate and determined, with a strong sense of right and wrong I suspect?”

Hermione just nodded. Still getting used to the constant hum of magic in her hand.

“It is a good fit then.” Ollivander nodded. “I made this particular wand during the autumn equinox. It is perfectly balanced for both light and dark magic. Use it wisely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was supposed to be the entire trip to Diagon Alley but after a while, I figured you'd guys would rather see what I have so far. I'll finish the rest of the trip in the next chapter.
> 
> For today's questions, what do you guys think of the goblins?? Do you want to see more wizard-goblin interactions or do you think it distracts from the witch/hedgewitch thing?


	3. The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione boards the Hogwarts Express

Chapter Three: The Hogwarts Express

The moment Hermione stepped into Flourish and Blotts she knew she had stepped into heaven. Where Ollivander’s had been stacked from floor to ceiling with wands, Flourish and Botts was stacked with books. There were charmed baskets floated behind customers as they browsed the store and books floating casually back to their places on the shelves. The isles were very clearly marked based on topic with the bestsellers and new releases placed on the table at the front of the store. There was even a section entirely dedicated to Hogwarts textbooks. 

“Do you have the list of books Professor McGonagall recommended?” Her mother asked as she saw Hermione’s eye light up.

“Yes, mum!” Hermione’s eyes flickered across the store, trying to figure out where to start.

“Ok, only those books Hermione,” Helen said sternly, putting her hand on her hip. “I don’t want to see anything that’s not on your list.” 

“Mum! But-”

“Not until you get to Hogwarts dear.” Helen explained, “If you get to Hogwarts and the book isn’t in the library, then we can talk.” 

Hermione huffed indignantly and started heading towards the Hogwarts section, “Fine.” 

Helen rolled her eyes and turned back to her husband, “She’s your daughter.” 

Richard laughed, “Her magic is all you, my dear.” 

“Speaking of magic, how are you two holding up?” Mr. Wealsey asked, balancing the owl cage on his hip, “I understand most muggles are quite shocked when they first find out. You two seem to be handling the news quite well.” 

“We always knew that Hermione had magic.” Helen replied, “But finding out about Hogwarts was quite shocking! I never imagined there was such a large magical community. This is simply amazing.”

“Yes, the Ministry of Magic takes the Statute of Secrecy very seriously.” Mr. Weasley said gravely.

“The statute of secrecy?” Richard asked.

“The statute of secrecy is the law that keeps the Wizarding World separate from muggle society.” Mr. Weasley explained, “It is against the law to use or talk about magic in front of any muggles not directly related to a witch or wizard. Strange that Professor McGonagall didn’t mention it when she visited. It must have just slipped her mind.” 

“Yes, that seems like an important thing to know!” Richard exclaimed.

“Directly related.” Helen murmured, thinking about her own extended family, “That means directly related to Hermione doesn’t it.” 

Mr. Weasley nodded sadly, “Yes, I’m sorry only family members with a direct blood connection to Hermione. If you tried to talk to someone not covered by the statute I’m afraid you would find yourself rather tongue-tied.” 

Helen nodded sadly, not entirely sure what to say.

“The statute is a very serious matter.” Mr. Weasley continued, “There isn’t even an exception for relationships. A couple must be married before the statute of secrecy no longer applies to them.”

Richard’s eyebrows rose, almost to his hairline, “Well that sounds like a recipe for disaster.” 

Helen snorted. It sounded like a great way to split up families to her. 

“Does magic normally stay in families then?” Helen asked after a moment. 

“For the most part yes,” Mr. Weasley nodded, “There is the occasional squib born into magical families or muggleborns like Hermione.”

“L-like Hermione?” Helen choked.

“Oh, I’m sorry! A muggleborn is a witch who’s been born to muggle parents.” Mr. Weasley explained, misunderstanding the source of Helen’s distress, “Blood is very important to some of the families ‘round here but it’s all a lot of poppycock if you ask me. Hermione is just as capable as the next witch or wizard.”

Helen fell silent, reeling slightly from the revelation. Thankful, Richard, catching sight of his wife’s distress, jumped in to redirect the conversation, “What’s Hogwarts like? Professor McGonagall didn’t explain much during her visit.” 

“Hogwarts is splendid!” Mr. Weasley clapped his hands together, “The students will learn a set basic curriculum during their first and second years consisting of charms, potions, transfiguration, history of magic, defence against the dark arts, herbology and astronomy. Then once they reach third year they will be able to pick up additional electives.”

“And you mentioned something about Houses?” Richard asked politely.

“Oh yes! There are four Hogwarts houses, Ravenclaw for the intelligent, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Gryffindor for the brave and Slytherin for the cunn-"

“How common is it for a witch to be born to non-magical parents?” Helen interrupted. 

“Not common at all!” Mr. Weasley enthused, “Hermione is very special. I can remember two muggleborns from my house back when I went to school. Maybe ten in my whole year?” 

Hermione came back with a full basket of school books and an extra about traditional wizarding culture, Helen couldn’t help but agree. Feeling like somehow, she had lost her daughter to a world she could only dream about. 

“Hermione,” Her mom said softly after they had said their goodbyes and were seated in the car headed home. 

“Yes, Mum?” 

“I don’t think these wizards consider me to be magical,” Helen said, focusing her gaze on the road ahead and trying not to let her emotions show on her face. 

“But….But the goblins!” Hermione exclaimed. 

“I don’t know dear.” 

And it made Hermione’s heart hurt, to think of the woman who raised her and loved her unconditionally as anything less than magical. The woman who sat and watched the sunrise with her and liked to listen to summer thunderstorms. Who listened to her talk endlessly about obscure greek mythology and never failed to wrestle her bushy hair into neat braids. Helen Granger was magical, her smile was magical, her kindness was magical and Hermione simply refused to consider anything else. 

Hermione hoped that when she got to Hogwarts she could make some friends. She had never really had friends before and for the most part that didn’t bother her. The kids at her school avoided her for the most part. They didn’t understand her and to be fair she didn’t understand them either. They gave her strange looks when she said Yule instead of Christmas and didn’t like that she never struggled with their schoolwork. But it’s not her fault she studied when the rest of them went out to recess. 

She much preferred the comfort and the safety of the library. The librarian, Mrs. Morrell, would save her extra books on the return cart whenever she went over her checkout limit. That way they would all still be there for her when she came back for them in the morning. She imagined Hogwarts would have a very impressive library too. One that would take her years to read all the different books. 

No, Hermione thought, friends are like unicorns, very magical and rare. Still, as she kissed her parents goodbye and crossed through the barrier to the Hogwarts Express she couldn’t help but hope. She didn’t need friends, but she’d very much like to have one.

The Hogwarts Express was a great, red steam engine train that looked straight from an old movie. She had read in _Hogwarts A History_ that it had been constructed in 1830 to help transport the hundreds of Hogwarts students without attracting the attention of muggles. It had been a rather controversial bill spearheaded by the Minister of Magic at the time, Ottaline Gambol, who was fascinated by muggle technology. Many prominent pureblood families argued that it was “unsafe, unsanitary, and demeaning” and as a result, the Ministry made it mandatory for students to arrive at school by train in order to attend.

Hermione watched as dark steam billowed from the chimney at the front of the train, thankfully filtering up and away from the platform. The platform itself was crowded with young students and families, all hugging and tearfully saying their goodbyes. Hermione felt a pang of regret that her parents couldn’t be here to see this but without magic, there was no way for them to cross the barrier onto the platform. 

Hermione pushed her way through the crowd to board the train. For a minute she stood, fighting with her trunk, trying to get it off the trolley and onto the train. Finally she let out an enraged squawk when her frustration finally got the better of her, whipped out her wand and pointed it at the defiant trunk.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” Hermione was used to the eager flow of her magic through her wand by now. She had been practicing magic on her own for weeks. She had already read through all of her first year textbooks, translated all the latin spells back to english and practiced the wand movements in the bathroom mirror. However, she was never quite prepared for the sheer amount of magic at her fingertips. If she wasn’t careful these simple spells would leave her drained and dizzy. 

After one particular incident that left her laying on the bathroom floor with the ceiling lights spinning across her vision, she’d stopped practicing anything beyond the first few chapters of her textbooks - not that it stopped her from memorizing everything she could about the spells. 

The majority of students were still outside so she had no issues finding an empty compartment. She stowed her trunk in the overhead bins and cancelled her spell. Finally she settled down with her potions textbook, intent to read for the majority of the ride.

Hermione was excited for all of her Hogwarts classes and doubly excited for anything that involved a wand. The thrill of being able to do magic and cast actual spells was unparalleled. But there was something special about potions class. There was something familiar in following a recipe and learning how the properties of different ingredients interacted. It reminded her of making tinctures and balms with her Mum. Plus, she had read the textbook through. Twice even. There was nothing in it saying you had to have magic to brew potions, just the proper ingredients. There was nothing stopping her from actually brewing with her Mom when she came home for the holidays. 

After a while, Hermione felt the train hum to life. The whistle sounded and they lurched into motion. Outside the window she could hear two boys yelling about stealing a toilet seat and snickered softly to herself. It was a funny prank for sure, but definitely not worth the risk of detention. 

Hermione looked up at the sound of the compartment door opening. 

“H-hello, do you mind if I'm still with you?” A young boy with dark hair asked. He had a round face and overly large front teeth that matched her own. 

“Oh! Yes of course!” Hermione put her book down beside her and stuck out her hand. “My name is Hermione Granger! It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Neville.” The boy floundered slightly at the sight of her outstretched hand but he still smiled shyly. “Err- of the _Most Ancient and Noble_ House of Longbottom.” 

“Ah! I’ve read about you!” Hermione exclaimed, “Or your family at least.” She added to Neville's stunned expression.

“You have?” 

“Yes! Your family is part of the Sacred-Twenty Eight. You have a seat on the Wizengamot!” Hermione exclaimed, “In _Wizarding Politics for the Modern Age_ , it mentions that your Head of House was able to retain control of the family magic, after the death of her husband. Apparently, it takes an exceptionally strong witch to do that!” 

“Oh ya! That’s my grandmother!” Neville replied, “I don’t know much about all that other stuff though.” 

“Professor McGonagall gave me a list of books about Hogwarts and Wizarding culture to read.” Hermione continued excitedly, “It’s all terribly fascinating! My Mum taught me a lot about paganism and Wicca, you see, but it’s all dated pre-statute of secrecy! So much has changed since then.” 

“Are you muggleborn then?” 

“What’s a muggleborn?” Hermione’s head tilted in curiosity.

“Oh! Sorry, a muggleborn is someone with non-magical parents, who grew up in the muggle world.” Neville explained. 

Hermione opened her mouth to correct him, to explain that even though she didn’t attend Hogwarts her Mum actually had magic. The goblins could say it, obviously, there was a flaw in the system that the wizarding world uses to detect magic. How could they not know about her family's magic?

But before she could say anything, Neville suddenly glanced around, “Oh no! Trevor!!”

“Trevor?” Hermione replied in confusion, “Who’s Trevor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next! THE SORTING! What interactions are you guys look forward to the most?
> 
> Also, I'm not entirely happy with Mr. Weasley's conversation with Hermione's parents. Any advice??


End file.
